


With your love shining through

by C_RIE_ativity



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Family Feels, Greg is nobility, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, More tags later, Parent Mystrade, Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-06-02 18:16:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19446922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_RIE_ativity/pseuds/C_RIE_ativity
Summary: In which Greg becomes a father, Mycroft finds out about some secrets the Detective Inspector had managed to keep and they pick Love and Care up along the way.If only romance and family could be this simple.





	1. Foster

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first Mystrade multi-chapter and this came from a Mystrade drawing I'd done so I'm a bit nervous on posting this cause I had a bit too much fun plotting this.
> 
> Anyway, this is chapter one so please be patient, Mystrade is definitely coming, I just needed to establish this! Please don’t hesitate to leave comments since I get motivated more when I see them!

It was one of those rare days where it seemed like the criminals in London all decided it was their rest day and had decided to leave the government and the Met alone for the moment.

Oftentimes, rare days like these led to the Yarders being a bit fidgety and they would sometimes end up trying to find something to focus their minds on. Oftentimes, their minds focus on gossip in the office, this sometimes leads to some disagreements but office gossip is more or less expected when there’s little to nothing for a group of detectives and officers of the law to do.

Usually, their attentions would be focused on the typical gossip such as who was having an affair with who, if DI Dimmock really was frequenting flower shops and who the flowers were for, if DI Lestrade had settled everything in that mess he called his divorce, if DS Donovan really was in love with Anderson, if the Freak was dating Watson or not, etc.

These were all common gossip subjects that the Yarders were known to engage in. On any normally boring day, they would be partaking in whispering about these subjects to one another with an almost hungry delight.

Today is not such a day.

Instead, most of the Yarders - at least, those part of DI Lestrade’s division - were clustered round the receptionist’s desk as they tried to get her to reveal more information about a man that had recently waltzed into the Yard without so much as an introduction and had locked himself and DI Lestrade in Lestrade’s office. His arrival was done in so confident a manner that the Yarders had all taken notice of him the moment he stepped inside. (It may have been partly in thanks to the two burly men that was clearly his security detail and partly in thanks to the confidence with which he had entered the building.)

Had DI Lestrade peeked outside his office, he might have seen his officers hissing at the receptionist to tell them everything she knew about his visitor. Had he seen such a sight, he would have ended it by ordering them all to find something more useful to do with their time.

As of the moment, it was really only the receptionist that has to deal with the overeager, information hungry NSY workers. The nervous young lady pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and fidgeted as she listened to every question. When everyone finally quietened, they waited for her to speak.

‘I… really don’t know who he is.’ She mumbled, her cheeks reddening as she heard frustrated groans. ‘He just walked up to me, told me that a call from higher up will say he’s allowed entry to Detective Inspector Lestrade’s office and then it happened.’

‘Did the toff give an I.D.?’ DS Donovan asked, her brows knitted together as she leaned on the receptionist’s counter. 

The receptionist - whose name was Mara Kingsley - shook her head in the negative.

‘He gave me a business card though.’ She mumbled as she gave the sergeant the cream coloured card. ‘He said his I.D. was too important for him to give to me.’

Donovan only raised a brow at Kingsley before she read what was written on the card.

**_A.T. Del Valle_ **

_ Philippine Government Official _

**_Contact:_** **atdv@gmail.com**

There was no other information for Donovan to find which led to her furrowing her brows and shooting a look at Lestrade’s office.

‘What sort of trouble d’you think he got into now?’ She muttered to a nearby constable who grimaced.

‘Maybe Freak’s done something in the Philippines that caused the government to be involved?’ The constable - a DC Jameson - murmured, his nose wrinkling slightly. ‘God knows the bastard is capable of that.’

‘Yeah?’ Donovan raised a brow at Jameson who shrugged. ‘Lestrade’s not his damn keeper. If that bloke there wants to arrest Freak for anythin’, it should be his brother he talks to.’

Jameson shook his head at Donovan and rolled his eyes. ‘You’re forgetting that the Freak tends to steal DI Lestrade’s badge, yeah? Maybe that was the name they saw and now, Lestrade’s got to explain ‘bout how Freak’s stolen his identity.’

A short silence followed Jameson’s theory before Donovan grimaced and looked at the Detective Inspector’s office again. ‘I hope that’s not the case.’ She muttered. ‘Lestrade’s too good a man for this shit.’

Another worker - Faulkner from I.T. - cut in with a nervous and apologetic smile. 

‘It could be the divorce though, couldn’t it?’ The young man speculated. ‘I mean, you heard what his ex had said. She _knew_ people. D’you reckon she framed DI Lestrade for a crime or something?’

Donovan paused before she shook her head. ‘Mad cow’s smart, sure, but she hates tropical islands. Won’t last a day in the heat.’

‘Can’t we just ask Detective Inspector Lestrade?’ Kingsley asked in her sweet and timid manner. ‘I don’t think he’d be angry if we ask.’

The officers and other employees of New Scotland Yard all exchanged glances before they shrugged. ‘If DI Lestrade don’t fly off the handle on us for gossiping then yeah, I suppose so.’ Jameson started simply.

Donovan, however, remained silent as she kept an eye on Lestrade’s office. Something was going on, she just knew it. Something was happening here and she felt like it would be something important to the detective inspector.

* * *

Inside the office, Greg was smiling brightly at his old university friend as the two of them regaled each other on what had happened to their lives since they had last seen each other. (That would have been two and a half years ago at New Year’s Eve) Despite the obvious bodyguards guarding the door, the two of them were just laughing and chatting with each other about how their lives had gone.

While he didn’t expect anything exciting from Alfonso’s life - minus things that his friend was not allowed to tell him - Greg still found himself taking pleasure in the fact that his friend was looking hale and whole. 

Greg had already updated Alfonso on his life (“Divorce was a mess, but Sarah’s backed off when Cousin Alfred stepped in as my attorney. Planning on moving out of my old flat though, don’t think I’d need the space anymore.”) He had also updated his old friend on his family’s lives too. (“Clement’s finally gotten engaged and Moira’s doing good in her ballet career, though she might be retiring soon. Mama’s trying out new flowers for the garden and Father’s as busy as ever. Not much has happened, really.”) So all that was left for Greg was to glean out the reason why his friend from years ago had decided to fly all the way to England when it wasn’t any sort of celebratory event that would require his presence overseas. (Professional or otherwise.)

Deciding that it would be best for both of them if he had simply asked, Greg cleared his throat and nodded at Alfonso.

‘Now, you know everything that’s happened to me. Mind telling me why you’ve come over?’ It was simple and straight to the point. There really was no better way around this other than to rip the answer from his friend’s lips rather than play word games with him.

And yet, even though he knew that was the best way around it, he saw Alfonso stiffen in his seat before his friend gave him that pleasantly blank smile Alfonso had perfected in their university days.

‘Why must I need a reason to meet with a good friend?’ Alfonso asked smoothly, his arms crossing as easily as he could. His face held a good innocent mask that would fool just about anyone.

Not Greg though.

The detective inspector snorted and rolled his eyes.

‘I know you, mate. You won’t go abroad unless it was for a _good_ reason.’ At that, Greg paused before he added, ‘By your standards.’

Alfonso only raised a brow at him and wrinkled his nose. ‘My disinclination to travel may have changed since we last met.’ His friend pointed out, his tone trying to sound convincing.

Greg smiled and shook his head. ‘Alfonso, you bitched ‘bout travelling back in uni, I don’t think you’d change in a small number of years.’ Leaning forwards to be a bit closer to his old friend, Greg raised his brows at Alfonso. ‘So let’s come clean and just tell me what you need, yeah?’

The innocently blank expression on Alfonso had faded and instead, Greg saw the underlying anxiety in his friend. Concern coiled in the pit of Greg’s gut as he waited for Alfonso to speak but a minute passed and no words left Alfonso’s lips.

Two minutes.

Three.

It was the fourth minute when his old friend finally spoke - not without taking in a deep breath to gather courage in himself, of course - and Greg’s concern grew when Alfonso _did_ speak.

‘First off, I promise you I had already consulted legal professionals from both countries regarding this matter.’ At that, Greg’s concern had spiked up. Alfonso had always been confident in his knowledge in law, what caused it to waver enough that he would consult with others? Seeming not to notice Greg’s concern, Alfonso continued, ‘Second, whatever necessary documents needed to be filled out, I had seen to that as well. If you agree to this, you’ll only need to sign the documents to finalise it.’ 

At that, an alarm bell rang in Greg’s head. Holding up a hand to stop Alfonso’s explanations, Greg cut in. ‘ _Documents_? Jesus, Alfons, what the hell’re you thinkin’ of getting me into?’ He hissed to his best friend.

Almost as if he wasn’t heard, Alfonso continued speaking. ‘Third, all expenses will be paid with my money. I promise you, I had saved enough and invested enough to know that I’ll be able to provide for this… _project_ without any difficulties.’

Greg shook his head and he got up, went round his desk and crouched down in front of his old friend, grasping Alfonso by his shoulders. The contact was enough to jar the dark-skinned man out of his explanations and to actually make eye contact with Greg.

‘Mate, you know I won’t bite your head off for having a request of me, yeah?’ When Alfonso nodded slightly, Greg grinned. ‘Now, what’s this about with legalities, documents and expenses on your bank account?’

It was meant to be a gentle tease on his friend’s nervousness, but it was like the question was enough for Alfonso to look ill at what he was about to say. Greg was expecting a regaling of trauma or some sort of blackmailing scheme, but the first answer he got was a cream folder being taken out of Alfonso’s briefcase and being pushed towards him.

A part of him thought it was likely a criminal case that the Philippines was trying to get custody of, but when he opened the folder, his eyes widened when he was greeted with the sight of a round-faced girl with dark wide eyes.

Greg could feel the fear and trauma the girl most likely had gone through from simply looking at her. His heart clenched and he looked at Alfonso, waiting for his old friend to tell him what - more like _who_ \- it was he was looking at.

‘I have an old friend, she’s working as a teacher at a private catholic school.’ Alfonso murmured, his finger pointing at a letter stapled beneath the photograph. ‘She wrote to me with details about one of her students and her concerns about the girl’s possible abuse. I was indifferent at first,’ Alfonso paused and gave a bitter smile directed to himself. ‘But then she called me one day and she was beyond furious. I didn’t understand until she sent me the address of a hospital and I found out that the girl had fainted at class due to being starved.’

Greg sucked in a sharp breath. ‘You’re not saying-’

Alfonso grimaced. ‘I am.’

Greg felt a cold settle inside his very blood as he looked at the round-faced girl again. He could see hauntedness in those wide eyes and her lips was in a forced smile, her shoulders were hunched as if she was trying to hide from the world, her head was ducked down.

She can’t have been older than six or seven in this photo.

‘And that was enough to make you act, was it?’ Greg murmured, taking one of the documents in the cream folder to peruse. ‘The moment she fainted due to being starved, it made you realise how bad it is.’

Alfonso laughed. ‘Afraid not.’ His tone was disgusted when he spoke and Greg looked at his friend in disbelief. ‘I finally acted when the paediatrician assigned to her pulled me aside to tell me of her past injuries she had managed to find out about. Each of the reasons for those injuries were bullshit and that was enough for me to finally take action.’

Greg knew that the standards for these things were different. He knew that disciplining children in every country were different but to hear how his friend had finally taken action after finding out the worst of the abuse made Greg feel sick.

‘You can’t be fucking serious, Alfons.’ He breathed out, his hand trembled as he brought it to his mouth to try and stop himself from retching. ‘A kid fainting from starvation should’ve clued you in. It should’ve been enough of a scream in your face for you to make that move.’

Alfonso only shook his head and looked at the files in the cream folder. ‘Greg, you and I know that the Philippines is different. Abuse is… _different_ there. Legalities are different there and it was a miracle alone I got enough evidence to have been able to take her away from that family.’

Greg was only silent as he read through the girl’s files. He found that while he couldn’t fault Alfonso for not taking action sooner, he still couldn’t stomach looking his friend in the eye for not trying to do something about the situation earlier.

‘Her name is Beatrice de Castro.’ Alfonso spoke. 

Greg remained silent, waiting for his old friend to tell him more of the girl he was shown. He wasn’t like Sherlock that could tell the kid’s backstory with just one glance, but he could still read enough of her that he found himself feeling protective of the child. 

‘And how old is she exactly?’ Greg asked, his voice low.

There was a pause.

‘Seven.’ Alfonso whispered. Greg uttered an oath and glared at his old friend. ‘She turned seven three months back.’

‘Jesus _fuck_ , Alfons.’ He hissed, ‘How did you just let _this_ go on? She’s a fucking kid, a _baby_ and you just _let_ this happen?’

Logically, he knew that this was not as easy as he’s making it sound. He knew how complicated it was to liberate a child from any sort of abusive environment. The fact that Alfonso was in a good position in the government to arrange for a liberation with little to no fuss was just a stroke of luck. But he still felt anger rise in him that his friend would take this long to even make any sort of move.

‘I had to choose a good moment to make my move, Greg.’ Alfonso snapped, his dark eyes flashing in irritation. ‘I can make liberation easy for her but I have to make this as legal as I could so that everyone would not question her being taken from her family.’

There was a short silence before Alfonso spoke again.

‘Do you understand that, Gregory?’ Greg was never called “Gregory” by Alfonso. At least, not unless it was important for him to know what he was saying.

Clenching his jaw, Greg only nodded and tried to steel himself for what else his friend had to say.

‘But even with her liberated from her family, I still wouldn’t be able to keep an eye over her what with my responsibilities.’ Alfonso sighed. ‘She would be put in a system that isn’t the kindest to children in her predicament seeing as I am wholly incapable of offering the kind of emotional support a child like her would require.’

The thought of the child being put in a foster family that might further damage her made Greg shift in discomfort in his seat.

‘Tell me you won’t let her go through the system.’ It was highly likely she would but he didn’t want to think of any other scenario. ‘Tell me you have a magic trick that’ll keep her safe.’

Alfonso smiled.

‘That’s where you come in.’ His friend nodded to the files before he carefully pulled out a few documents and slid them over to Greg. ‘You were always better with children than I have been and I’ll only need at least a year to shortlist families that would be able to provide her with the emotional stability she would need to properly heal-’

Greg held up a hand to stop Alfonso from speaking any further as he tried to wrap his head round what his friend was asking of him.

‘Hold on, Alfons.’ He muttered, his brows furrowing together. ‘Are you asking me if I could take the girl in?’

‘Only until I get a shortlist organised.’ Alfonso assured him with a small smile. ‘I’ll have to attend to my usual duties while going on conferences to meet with potential foster families that would be able to handle a child with severe trauma and after that, I’ll be back to get her.’

Greg was silent for a few moments as he mulled over what his friend had said before he sighed and rubbed at his jaw. Alfonso had always known that he had wanted to be a dad but that Sarah hated children and to offer him the chance to foster a child was something close to his wish being granted. Alfonso also knew how demanding his job was and how rare it was for him to have an appropriate amount of free time to even look into adoption. 

‘Alfons, mate, you know I’d love to but I have work and if I _would_ have to foster the girl, I’d need to look into schools, call my family, handle every legal matter I’d need-’

This time, it was Alfonso’s turn to cut him off.

‘Greg, calm yourself.’ His friend smiled. ‘As I’ve said, _everything_ legal had been handled already. All you’ll need to do is call your family.’

Greg grimaced. ‘And my work? Alfons, I love my job as a DI and having a kid - much less one with trauma - would need a lot of attention and care.’

‘You have rest days and this will give you motivation not to work yourself to the bone. You could come home at your actual out-time and the child could have a babysitter or something if she doesn’t have classes.’

Greg was silent for a few moments longer before he shook his head and reached over his desk for a pen.

‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Alfons.’ He muttered as he took out various documents from the folder that was waiting to be signed. Giving each page a check, he found that all the information was correct and up to date. He snorted. Trust Alfonso Tiburcio Del Valle to know everything he’ll need to fill out forms for _someone_ _else._

It took a few moments of signing his name before he finally set his pen down and looked at his old friend with raised brows.

‘So, when m’I gonna meet her?’ Alfonso smiled brightly and he got up from his seat, brushing away any dust that might have gathered on him as he did so.

‘Tomorrow. We will be at Whitehall where a government official will be serving as a witness to the proceeding. It’s more of a formality, nothing legal or illegal, just to make sure someone could vouch for the fact that the girl is delivered safely to the foster parent. It’s a precaution I’m taking.’ Without missing a beat, Alfonso took a pen from Greg’s pen basket and scribbled something on the folder.

‘That’s the floor and room number where we’ll meet. Be there at 1215 or earlier since the official that’s overseeing this isn’t forgiving regarding tardiness. I will see you tomorrow.’

And just like that, Alfonso was gone and with him left the bodyguards.

Silence reigned the room for a few moments before he finally decided to read the scribblings his friend had left on the folder.

_ Floor 2 _

_ Room 207 _

_ Initials M.T.A.H. _

He supposed if he was a stranger, he wouldn’t have recognised anything written here. He would not have recognised the room or even the floor. Even less likely would he have made any sense of the initials he read.

But he was no stranger.

He had been in that room a fair number of times and he had met the man that bore those initials enough times inside and outside of Whitehall. He supposed it only made sense that after years of speaking with Mycroft Theodore Alexander Holmes, minor government official, regarding his younger brother, Greg would finally have it be his turn to speak with the British Government regarding someone being put in his care.

Surprisingly, Greg did not mind that the British Government will be involved with his fostering a child.


	2. Judge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Mycroft Holmes is involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! Long time no see and I’m so sorry for that! I ran into a writer's block and a lot of personal things happened but by god I’m back now and I’ll try to update this thing as much as I could so don’t you worry on that! 
> 
> This chapter is a bit shorter in comparison to the first, but I hope you guys still enjoy this as much as I did in writing this! Here, we see Mycroft becoming part of the story now! As always, I appreciate hearing from you guys since that’s what helps motivate me to keep writing, thanks so much for your patience! <3

It all started, Mycroft supposed, like his usual days started. With Business As Usual. 

Contrary to what people would think, he did not love his job. It was nothing more than a duty for him and he supposed it should have been depressing for him if he knew what he wanted to be when he grew up. But he didn’t ever figure that bit out of his life, too focused as he was on keeping an eye on Sherlock and Eurus for him to have time for such _trivial_ matters.

His only concern regarding that matter was the fact that his older brother would not be the most pleased if he ever found out about Mycroft’s career path not being something he wanted.

Not that this day was to centre around him at all. Nothing in Whitehall _or_ his life ever did, really. (Again, mildly depressing but Mycroft rarely had time for himself to process all that… _mess_.) 

No, today he was to have an arrangement earlier than his usual arrangements. 

Letting out a quiet sigh, Mycroft rechecked his diary to see if his schedule was correct and that those involved in this arrangement was not going to be late. As he idly flipped through the pages, trying to locate the appointment he had written down, he thought back to the brief discussion he had with his (less respected) counterpart in the Philippines. Normally, sentiment and care would not have won him over to approve of a child’s fostering in England but… he was not wholly heartless. After reading the girl’s files, Mycroft found himself becoming more willing to having the girl stay in England to recover and to stay safe from her abusive family.

After all, he must have a heart _somewhere_.

So here he was now, rechecking his schedule to make sure nothing was amiss before pulling up the child’s files on his computer.

As before, he was met with dark eyes - deceptively black but is in fact a dark brown - that looked far too haunted for a girl of seven to even look. Mycroft was silent as he perused the medical records, birth records, family intel, school reports, _everything_. It all pointed to this child possibly being afflicted with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, but he will only find out about the truth of her situation when Del Valle arrives with her.

As he clicked through the files he was sent, he paused at the file he had been rereading since he had agreed to the girl’s entry to his country (And since the form was sent to him late last night). He frowned as he attempted to connect the gaps he detected in her foster-father’s file.

** Jean Gregory Sinclair **

It was not an odd name other than that there was an Earl of Scottish descent (a mild travesty to some) with that same surname whose children were honourable and good. (A revelation that was brought to Mycroft’s knowledge due to his lunch conferences with said Earl being filled with eager and affectionate anecdotes about his three children. His eldest and heir was apparently serving Queen and Country by protecting it. Likely a high ranking army officer then.) 

As he read through the descriptions and everything else that had been filled out, he was aware of his mind trying to tell him something. A fact he might have missed or even something that he did not know. But all he could do was reread all description of the man and note how he was an accomplished and kind man.

Though he had to wonder why it was Del Valle of all people that had filled out all the information on the form. All he could take note of was the neat cursive of his signature at the bottom confirming his agreement to the fostering.

Seeing as the form was scanned, Mycroft knew the amount of data he would be capable of gleaning from the form was insufficient. Especially because his counterpart had filled it himself and only a few telltale smudges of ink was his only hint about Sinclair. Pursing his lips, Mycroft zoomed in on the smudges and raised his brows at what he’d managed to read from the man.

The smudges indicated that he had spent the day signing too much paperwork that he had not noticed the ink stains on his finger. He also took note of how some parts of the form had smudges that implied Sinclair had read the form as carefully as he could afford and Mycroft supposed those two tells should be enough for him to glean he was a thorough, hardworking man. 

But he would determine that when they finally meet face to face.

Mycroft wanted to convince himself that this was all in the interest of his agreement with Del Valle, but deep inside he knew that if Sinclair was not up to par to what the child needs then he himself shall take responsibility in finding her a suitable foster parent while he cares for her before he finds such a match.

Letting out a huff, Mycroft closed the files he had pulled up on the computer and he began tapping at his oak desk. If his mental clock was correct - and it frequently was - then they had thirty minutes to an hour left before their agreed upon time.

Far too much time for him but _normal_ people would most likely still be tardy and he had a feeling that Del Valle was rather normal despite nearly matching his intellect.

Mycroft was proven wrong five minutes later when Anthea had popped her head into his office telling him that Del Valle had arrived with the girl. Mycroft felt his brows climb up his forehead at the announcement and he bade his assistant to go on ahead and give the two permission to enter his office.

‘And please bring up some breakfast food for the girl.’ He added as an afterthought. He had a vague notion that the child was not yet fed by his counterpart if it were still this early in the morning.

Leaning back in his seat, Mycroft watched as Del Valle and the girl made their way into his office and already, Mycroft felt himself bristle slightly at what he’d managed to read of the girl. She was clearly afraid of him - he cannot blame her - and was clinging onto Del Valle with the clear fear of being abandoned by the man that was her saviour. Mycroft took note of how thin she looked and he was thankful that he had bidden Anthea to fetch breakfast food for the girl since it was clear she still wasn’t regaining what weight she would need.

All his observations happened in the span of only a minute and in that time, he had risen from his seat and approached his counterpart, a hand already reaching out to shake Del Valle’s who grasped his firmly and shook it only once before returning to its place on top of the child’s head. It was almost like the hand on her head was Del Valle’s promise of protection to her. Mycroft almost smiled at the silent gesture.

Almost.

Instead, he gestured for the two to take their seats at the sofa in his office as he promised them that refreshments shall be brought in shortly. He also decided to take note of the surprise on the child’s expression and he felt his heart constrict at how she looked so surprised at the base requirement of _food_.

Del Valle smiled quietly at him but Mycroft took note of the sharp edge in his counterpart’s eyes. A threat of “don’t even think of saying the wrong thing to her or you shall face my _wrath_ ” and despite the helplessness and powerless state of the country Del Valle represented, Del Valle was still ready to threaten _him_ , The British Government himself, with whatever he had at his arsenal.

It was foolish, reckless even. But it was enough to make Mycroft smile, impressed.

‘Del Valle.’ He greeted amicably, his tone carefully neutral as he stepped back a bit to observe his guests.

Del Valle nodded and his smile remained in tact as he allowed the girl to burrow into his side. His hand drifted from the top of her head to her shoulder as he made to introduce her.

‘Mister Holmes, I would like you to meet Beatrice de Castro.’ Del Valle spoke in almost a murmur, almost as if he was worried the girl would flinch at a normal volume.

Mycroft took note that she almost did and Mycroft found himself making an attempt at putting the child at ease.

He did not kneel or bend down to the child’s eye level, but he did tilt his head slightly at her for him to properly hear what she would say. He also allowed a smile that was close to nonexistent for her hoping it would ease her in his presence.

‘Good morning, Miss de Castro,’ he greeted and raised a hand out for her. The moment she shrank away from him, he put his hand away and continued speaking as if nothing was the matter, ‘I hope England is to your liking so far?’

It was not as if he would be able to change the weather or move the stars, but to see the shy, wide-eyed look he received in response was enough to make his smile widen a bit. He knew many people thought his smiles were unnerving but those smiles were more to have people follow him than to see utter delight in him. The smile he gave the child was one of delight in knowing the girl was at least enjoying what she could of her new home.

‘England had been agreeable to her thus far,’ Del Valle confirmed this, his head tilted slightly as if trying to read him. ‘Beatrice appreciated the fact that you helped her be safe.’

Mycroft highly doubted that the child herself said it but one glance at her expression and he found that Del Valle was telling the truth. There was only pure and open honesty in those dark eyes and it almost jarred the man that was the British Government to see that much honesty. Only one other had held that tendency to be so easily read and that was the Detective Inspector.

Pulling himself away from his thoughts Mycroft focused his attention on Del Valle once more and gestured to his desk. ‘I do believe we have to further discuss her foster parent?’ Though Mycroft did not doubt the competence of his counterpart, Mycroft didn’t know if his counterpart only chose this man for the renown.

For all he knew, Del Valle chose someone with a good social reputation but was in fact the opposite. He may have gotten the title of the Iceman from his colleagues but Mycroft was well aware that he was anything but _that_.

Once Del Valle had joined him, sitting on a chair in front of his desk, Mycroft turned his screen to face Del Valle and he opened the papers with Sinclair’s signature. 

‘Rather curious that it was you who filled this out rather than the foster father, don’t you think?’ It was a simple deduction for him. He may not have known Del Valle for long but he could read the man’s thoughts and strategies. ‘You did not inform this man of the fostering long enough for him to make a decision.’

‘He agreed in the end and Mister Sinclair is not too fond of filling out paperwork after several hours of already doing so.’ Del Valle explained as he carefully adjusted his ward’s sitting position on the chair opposite his. ‘I see no point in this seeing as his signature is legitimate and he has no malicious intentions towards the child.’

Mycroft let out a sigh and rubbed at his forehead. Keeping the child in mind, Mycroft looked at Del Valle and made sure to it his counterpart understood that he had no intentions of playing leniency on such a serious matter.

‘And _what_ \- if I may be so bold to ask - qualifies the candidate for fostering the child?’ Mycroft shot back, he kept Del Valle’s gaze and took note of his counterpart carefully processing his answer and Mycroft prepared himself for a generic answer to such a question.

‘Mister Sinclair is a good friend of mine and had always wanted children.’ It was a simple answer, true and honest. But Mycroft was no guileless fool.

‘You cannot vouch for him simply because he is a _friend_ , Del Valle.’ The British Government shot back. It was a miracle he still sounded indifferent. ‘What are his credentials? Proof he can care for a child with trauma? That he can offer her her needs rather than giving her the bare minimum? You cannot merely give me statements about wanting a child and being a good friend as those are still uncertain in how he is a good friend or how he would be as a parent.’

Mycroft leaned back against his seat and met the amused gaze of Del Valle who was calmly seated with his leg draped over the other, his distinguished appearance was unmarried by any threat or ill will, now. It was merely amusement that painted the darkness of his eyes.

His charge was anything but composed in comparison to the both of them. A spike of concern shot through Mycroft when he saw wide, fearful eyes directed at him. While he cannot say that his conversation with Del Valle was anything friendly, Mycroft liked to think this as a civil discussion, not an argument. Seeing the expression on the child had him reevaluate his tone and he looked at Del Valle who was mirroring the concern in Mycroft.

‘Perhaps it would be best if Beatrice would wait outside until Mister Sinclair comes in to meet and fetch her.’ Del Valle murmured quietly.

Normally, Mycroft would find a way to manipulate someone wishing to order him around with the ease similar to breathing, but he was willing to acquiesce that pride for the sake of being able to have this discussion regarding the child’s fostering without any concern for her mental stability. 

Mycroft nodded his assent before buzzing Anthea in. From the mildly ruffled state of her hair and the scarf still tied round her neck, he could surmise that she had already fetched some food for the child. 

‘Anthea, please take Miss De Castro outside where she can wait for her foster father’s arrival while Mister Del Valle and I continue our discussion.’ He could we her concern over the mention of a discussion but Mycroft only offered a nod to indicate that all was well.

Del Valle had already pulled the child up and had ushered her over to the door, murmuring gentle words to her in their mothertongue. Though she looked just as frightened of Anthea as she was of Mycroft, she still took hold of Anthea’s hand and went outside. It was not much for a child like her but to see her still manage to do that without running back to her keeper was something to take note of.

With the two men left to the privacy of Mycroft’s office, the two men returned to their discussion at hand. Del Valle focused his attention on Mycroft, his fingers interlacing together, lips pressed together as if anxious to keep a secret but also desiring to speak it. Mycroft raised a brow at his counterpart as if coaxing him to speak.

There was no hesitation in Del Valle’s voice the moment he deigned to speak. 

‘Mister Sinclair is from an affluent family that would be able to offer material necessities to Beatrice. In terms of schooling, I had already found her a good school in which she shall be enrolled in and Mister Sinclair had always been gentle to children even when he was a teenager. He had five years between him and his younger sibling and eight with his youngest and he would always see to it that he was there to watch over them when needed,’

Pressing his lips together, Mycroft steepled his fingers together and rested his elbows upon his desk. It was still insufficient proof for him but he supposed he shall merely have to wait and see if this “good friend” of his counterpart was as good as he was claimed to be.

*****

It was fifteen minutes to their agreed upon time that Del Valle had been informed that Sinclair was on his way. By then, the child was already finished with her breakfast and Anthea had already brought in some tea things and sandwiches that he and Del Valle could consume while waiting for Sinclair’s arrival.

By the time Del Valle received a call from Sinclair announcing his arrival, Anthea had sent him a message. What she wrote made Mycroft’s brows go up.

_Sir, DI Lestrade is on his way up to your office._

_A._

And just like that, the dots connected and all the unseen clues were brought to light.

Mycroft rose from his seat just as measured knocking sounded from his door.


End file.
